


The Sanguine Sea

by Babs (King_Dollophead)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Figurative Language, Gen, Random - Freeform, cross-posted to FF.net, probably gonna delete later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 18:27:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17813153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/King_Dollophead/pseuds/Babs
Summary: Merlin is confronted by adversaries from another age. Their weapons are unlike anything he's ever seen before. Good thing he can say the same about himself. (A quick, yet descriptive one-shot centering around a saddened, immortal! and somewhat BAMF!Merlin. Shorter than most of my works, but still intricate. Contains mild graphic violence and much figurative language. Originally posted to my FF.net account on Dec 18, 2017.)





	The Sanguine Sea

 

Bullets tore through him—and still, he stood.

Blood caressed his blanched skin as it trickled down his lean body, sending a sensation of coldness throughout his being.

His eyes blazed with vehement passion, embers set in a chiseled hearth, yet capable of piercing one's soul, cold, sharp, and hardened like a blade. Mercy scintillated off of the bluish cutlass like starlight—abundant, and soothing in the way that it twinkled tenderly. His orbs, cerulean and mottled by aureate flecks, were those of a boy who has seen too much and grown far too fast; they belonged to one who had become jaded towards the hardships that plagued oneself, yet empathetic and compassionate when faced with the struggles of another.

A strong desire not to kill shone in his eyes, a melancholy lustre typically reserved only for the loneliest, rarest of gemstones.

His abdomen wept on behalf of his dry eyes.

"Please," he whispered, though his voice rang louder and clearer than even the nearest gunshot, "stop fighting. I do not wish to harm you."

The barrage halted. The man eyed his aggressors hopefully.

A bullet very nearly embedded itself in his left eye.

"You have left me with no choice. I'm sorry it has to be this way," the man whimpered, voice dripping with tears of remorse and sincerity.

With a flash of gold, far purer than any ever before formed on Earth, the entirety of the army was wiped out.

A single droplet of liquid sorrow fell to the earth, beckoning life to spring up amidst the ashes and carnage wrought by war. Several more followed suit.

The man stood in silence for what seemed like eons, sable locks dipping and twirling solemnly on the melancholy breeze.

The scent of death and destruction floated away on the winds, replaced by the soft, bittersweet fragrance of the foliage that had burst forth, fueled by the purity of the man's tears.

_Those poor men_ , the man thought mournfully.  _They came from another time—another_ world.  _No one will know what happened to them. There are no bodies to bury—only bloodstains upon the earth. They knew not what was occurring—and how could they? They were frightened. They lashed out in panic. And still, knowing this, I took their lives._

A distant thunderclap tore through the heavens, warning the man of an incoming storm. He did not move.

The rain fell softly, at first, though soon, it was as torrential as the tears that trailed down the man's distinguished cheeks.

The ruddied earth, now loosened by rain, became a vast ocean of crimson, flowing as far as the eye could see.

Rubicund rivulets rolled down the man's slender figure, sending ripples throughout the loathesome Sanguine Sea.

As lightning broke the sky into fragments, and thunder cried and raged, the man stood tall, a paragon of remorse and honor.

Soon, he knew, he would have to depart, and return to a life in which nothing could seem wrong.

A life of misery, masked by oafish joy.

A life wrought with deceit.

The man sought only one thing, now;  _verity_.

And yet, he knew it could never be his.


End file.
